“I am sure, dear marchioness, you will not find our dear abbé in the way.”
“No, for I believe him to be honest and true.”
I kept at a respectful distance, ready to go away with my splendid snuff-box at the first jest she might hurl at me.
The cardinal asked her if she intended to remain to dinner.
“Yes,” she answered; “but I shall not enjoy my dinner, for I hate to eat alone.”
“If you would honour him so far, the abbé would keep you company.”
She gave me a gracious look, but without uttering one word.
This was the first time I had anything to do with a woman of quality, and that air of patronage, whatever kindness might accompany it, always put me out of temper, for I thought it made love out of the question. However, as we were in the presence of the cardinal, I fancied that she might be right in treating me in that fashion.
The table was laid out near the cardinal’s bed, and the marchioness, who ate hardly anything, encouraged me in my good appetite.
“I have told you that the abbé is equal to me in that respect,” said S. C.